Snow. You love the snow. You told me once…do you remember that? And I said that I hated the cold and wet and you looked like you were about to say something. But you didn’t.

But here we are in the snow once more. Well, not exactly in the snow. You lounge in a cold patch of ugly dead grass devoid of any white slush. You pat the ground next to you and give me a big grin, one that could mean anything. One that could say everything from:
“Come sit next to me,”
or
“Lets talk,”
or
“Why don’t we just hang out for a while,”
or
“I love you and I need you and I want you to stay with me forever and ever and never let me go anywhere else but right here in this perfect moment”.

Maybe I inflate the meaning of that grin, but that’s what I mean when I smile at you, like I am goofily doing right now. But no matter what it says, your smile makes me dizzy every time I see it. Dizzy and happy and nervous as anything; but I’m sure you know that. How come when you look at me I feel like you know everything about me?
I put away all of my questions and just sit next to you, up against the side of the house. Am I too close? I don’t want to look eager. But you don’t seem to mind. It shocks me when you shyly scoot even closer to me across this piece of hard earth.
I am nervous. I won’t even try to deny it. Staring out at the brilliant pristine snow scape before me, I feel your presence next to me more than anything in the world. Why can’t I concentrate? Am I making this awkward? That is the last thing I want. Should I talk? About what? Should I even look at–
“Its really, um, pretty out here, you know?” You say it like you can’t think of a single other thing in the world to talk about. Well, that makes two of us.
“Yeah it is. I um, I love the snow.”
Liar. Liarliarliarliarliar. Why did I have to go and say something idiotic like that? You know it isn’t true. But I don’t continue. I just sit like a mute and stare at the glittering white that graces the treetops around us, lean back against the side of the house. It's not comfortable. It's cold against my back, penetrating my thick shirt, and I shiver to the tempo of the wind that blows across the landscape. You notice.
“Hey, are you cold? Here, take my coat”. Concerned, you shrug out of the navy blue ski jacket you always wear during winter. Remember when it was brand-new and we went outside to have a snowball fight? I could tell that you were so proud that you didn’t need to borrow your big brother Tom’s old one that was puffy and too big for you. You didn’t say anything, but I knew you were proud.
“Thanks”. I say it quietly as you drape the heavy coat over my shoulders. It pushes my loose hair around my face, and you reach out your hand sweetly, tucking it behind my ear. I am startled for a second, but my heart bounces ecstatically inside of me. How do you know how to do these little things that just about make me melt?
I ask if you will be cold and you laugh and in a manly way tell me that you don’t feel the cold. Oh, and there’s that smile again. I forget everything when I see you grin, and now I am all disoriented and dreamy. I stare at you as I try to collect my thoughts again, and your body shifts against mine so that we are facing. You do that thing with your hair that all boys do, where you toss it out of your eyes with a shake of your head. Why is it too hard for you to move it out of the way with your hand? I guess it wouldn’t have the desired effect on the female gender that way.
We sit there for a second, closer than ever, as I awkwardly shove my hands through the arms of the jacket. I can tell that you are looking at me, and I arrange the coat around myself more than is needed so that I won’t have to think of what to do next. When I lift my head and stare into your brilliant blue eyes, I realize what is going to happen with a panic. You are going to kiss me. Right here, in the snow, in the cold, on the ground. Right here.
Now you lean towards me.
Now I can smell your cologne.
Now I feel your warm hands on my waist.
Now we close our eyes.
Now I reach forward.
Now our lips meet.
And now, in the midst of this perfect chaos, I begin to love the snow.